Troll Bridge by Jane Yolen

Author:Jane Yolen
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780765386649
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

15

Moira

The boy went out the back door and hesitated. Moira shoved him with two fingers.

“Left,” she whispered.

He turned, went as far as the wall’s end, hesitated again and glanced back at her. Still bound up in the rope, he looked incredibly vulnerable.

Moira hauled the larder door closed, or as closed as she could without being able to reach the handle. Then she moved past the boy and peered cautiously around the corner. A small bundle of fur lay against the far end of the wall, near the next corner, like a discarded rag.

“Foss?” she hissed.

“Be silent, human child. The trolls come home.”

“Which way?” she asked in her head.

“Front door.”

“Ah!” She grabbed the boy by the shoulder, propelling him forward.

“Who are you talking to?” he asked. “I hear a kind of buzz, but…”

She clapped a hand over his mouth, all the while thinking: So he can sort of hear Foss. Then she realized what this meant. This place is lousy with musicians.

“As long as they are not lousy musicians,” Foss said in their heads. If a fox can be said to chuckle, he chuckled. “This one is just passable. He will get used to me.”

Quickly, they made their way to him.

“Lying down on the job?” Moira asked sharply. Then she realized that his hind feet were splayed out behind him in an unnatural position. “That doesn’t look very good.” She knelt down.

“You may touch me this time, child of man and woman, but remember—I am no pet.”

She nodded, then stood and spun the boy around. Taking the sword-like knife, she made quick work of the rope that bound him. When she was done, and the rope in pieces at his feet, he shook his hands vigorously to get the circulation back. His face showed nothing of what must have been a horrible case of pins-and-needles. Moira was impressed, but didn’t say so.

“You carry this,” she said, handing him the knife. “I’ll take the fox.” She bent down again and gathered Foss up in her arms. Just then she heard the front door of the troll’s house slam shut.

“My fiddle,” Foss said sharply.

“Never mind the stupid fiddle.”

“Without the fiddle, we cannot rescue the eleven princesses.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Trust me.”

“Hey!” said the boy suddenly. “I hear a voice in my head!”

“Shhh!” Moira and Foss said together. Then Moira bent down and grabbed up the fiddle with her right hand, careful not to jar the wounded fox. “It’s the fox,” she whispered.

“Really? No.” He was careful to whisper back. Glancing quickly down at the fox in her arms, he looked up again, quizzically. “Really?”

Moira shrugged and said quietly, “Why would I make such a thing up?” Then to Foss, “Which way?”

“The path to the right. It leads below the waterfall and back to my cave. We will be safe there, child of man … and woman.”

Just then Moira heard bellowing in the house, and guessed the trolls weren’t happy about their loss of dinner. She asked no more questions but raced away down the right-hand path, the boy following quickly.

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